Of course, Esme and Althalos' life was no children's tale.

They did strive to live happily ever after, averaged a child per decade-sometimes two-and most all of them were an obvious blend of their parents, repeatedly proving their union was true. Most of her siblings and their descendants ran amok in their corner of the kingdom-after all, it took a lot of people to wrestle a fiefdom from the wilderness. So many generations of them passed that they eventually forgot that the great lord and lady were their family.

Her father was eventually caught and hung for thievery, thankfully not by any of the couple's actions-they managed to save his younger children from the gallows, but the man himself was guilty. That cost him his silence on the thieve's Lord, as well. Their patron was Theremond-which shocked everyone as the man was not known to be able to keep a secret if it meant his own life. Apparently, he used this perception for misdirection that would have continued on, had it not been for the Grimhold. As he was a major player in the smuggler's hold over the kingdom, and there was evidence that he was trying to usurp the throne, the most lenient his father could be with him was a life of exile, but only after a missive sent to the other kingdoms did not request his son's death.

A few wars broke out in the course of their lives, where Althalos and some of their sons rode off into battle. They all came home safely-save Thalosine. He took a blow meant for his father-Althalos was never the same man after that, but he did learn to live and laugh again, bouncing his hier's orphaned daughter on his knees during that rough year. She was the first of the descendants to grow up to be the Crystal Queen's aide, as they merged the newly reformed hives with the various king's cities. (By then, there were no bondmaids looking for Aelifs: their first task finally complete.) The Queen had found a use for the mistakes-descendants who could brave that line that still existed between bondmaid and Aelfine without quite being either. Sometimes Esme wondered if they could keep any of the children in Thalos.

King Moreshull spent the next four hundred years testing the defenses Althalos kept up around his family, until Octavian finally finagled the older king into marrying two of their children together, to help force peace back between the kingdoms. Of course, it would have been easier to demand his execution, but kings are far harder to force death upon than princes.

His son's skull remained a jail for the strange would-be lover of men and boy alike for centuries further, becoming more cantankerous with his lady jailor by the day. Everyone was surprised when they merged, but at least she had the civility to warn Althalos in a letter before he ran into her at court. Neither was the same being as before, and they were content with themselves.

Some fifteen hundred years after they wed, Esme died in her husband's bedchamber. His only warning was that she fell after she got out the bed, the sound alerting him that he lost everything he lived for. It was a cold winter, and it took magic and hard labor to hew a grave into the ground next to their dear boy, but the once braw Aelif refused to let her freeze above ground. And he grieved-his sun had gone out and could not follow after him, in the tradition of the Aelif. He had enough of this life with her gone, although he didn't dream nightmares anymore. He turned his little kingdom within his uncle's over to his second son, Neyler, and chose to walk the Frostways, fading into the starlight that lit the path for the descendants that came afterwards. This choice would never see him fully die, but it also meant he wouldn't live either, and he did not want living without her.

But all this was long into their future. In their best here and now, where they were young: they had a wedding to plan, a young son to get to know, and enough of a tale to weave lies from to make a kinder children's tale.